History is a mirror where streams of consciousness converge and recycled feeling swells; shake loose the ghostly sediments to mete their rhymes. History is a river. At the banks, with pipe and drum, the enemy within keeps time with scry and knell. History is a wishing well.
Now they’ve spoiled the share
They want us to share the spoils
Divvy to take.
Who shares Society?
Who is the cake?
Did you get the memorandum?
Truth is not a referendum
That’s reflected in a ballot,
In accordance with our palate.
An opinion doesn’t mean you’re right
And blackmail is a pretty risky
Filthy way to start a fight
And bleeding hearted populists,
So expert in promotion,
By exploiting our emotions:
They well know it.
And it shows if you try looking
At the mess they’re busy cooking,
That they haven’t got a frigging clue
Beyond what they told us to do
And if you think about it, nor may you.
For a better understanding,
Take a gander at the chaos
Of the dross with which
They play us.
Do you know which face is speaking?
Can you count the fakes and spot the spin
In all the lines they’re tweaking?
Have you looked around the back for strings?
Seen the cracks within the shite?
Checked your confirmation bias
And that lazy soundbite?
Do not pander to post-truth.
Don’t misunderstand a purpose
Where agenda can usurp us;
Have a pref’rence for some proof.
Stop pretending white is black,
Cease meandering around the facts
And open wide those glassy eyes,
Unglue the ears and hear the guile
And change the dismal diet,
For at least a little while.
So we clock the next Gregorian notch
And reset our lot to resolutely futile promises,
Albeit just as well-intended
As last year’s sentimental whimsy –
As if resolve appears with perfect purchase
Only on the calculated year’s last day;
As though all others be ill-suited
To self-betterment or harm’s arrest
Because no other day is good for
Stopping smoking, drinking,
Eating less and exercising more.
And no one’s ever bored
By all the empty, drunken declarations
Or the stone cold sober tokens,
Why gesture yearly,
Merely for tradition’s pressure
Just to fall in measure to a herded fashion?
All that well-meant passion, fleeting;
All that cheated rationale…
Well, bugger that!
But for the want of a perilous crutch,
To your own drum be tuned –
There are much better waves to catch.
If wishes were dishes
The breadth of the feast
Would encompass enough
For the whole world to eat.
What a banquet we’d have!
What a smörgås of food,
Quenching palates a-plenty –
Chacun à son goût!
Happy New Year!? And take heart: 2017 might well be spectacularly shitty but it’s not a leap year and needs no leap second, so, at least it will be shorter. 😉 Wishing you silver linings and pockets of Light xXx
Leaders blamed all the wrong things
to hide their shortcomings
and a lot of very silly people met them
when yet more silly people blamed
all the wrong things, again,
the same lazy leaders went and let them.
It was an age of outrage,
wasted by the justified.
Others were just keen.
And here we are,
to twenty seventeen:
Year of the Audacity of Arrogance
– an age sold to fools,
told by idiots.
Hope, for all you are worth,
In clarions of love to light
A diadem of noble dreams
Upon the aching soul of Earth.
Anoint her with your starry beams,
Each prayer to heal a world of hurt.
In deep of night, make spirit bright,
As midwives to a beacon’s birth.
Merry Christmas. Chanukah Sameach. May you wish high and with all your beautiful might. 💫